


Nothing Behind Me

by casual_distance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1920s Aesthetic, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Come Sharing, Crossdressing Dean, Dean in Panties, From Sex to Love, Gangsters, Gen, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Physical Abuse, References to Non-Consensual Sex Acts, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-public masturbation, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2016, Touch-Starved, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7072792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/casual_distance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Castiel’s favorite part of these nights, seeing <i>him</i> in low cut dresses, fringe framing his thighs, imagining that one day Castiel will get to touch all that pale, freckled skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Behind Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN Kink Bingo to fill the square “touch starvation”. My card can be [found on my tumblr](http://casualstories.tumblr.com/kinkbingocard2016).
> 
> Inspired by this prompt from [longkissgoodnightbatmanandtwofac](http://longkissgoodnightbatmanandtwofac.tumblr.com/): Dean is the kept man of mob boss Michael who he only pretends to love. Cas is a young waiter who is forced to dispose the bodies of the mob. Dean meets Cas and falls in love with him. But when their affair is discovered Michael tries to force Dean to kill Cas.

Castiel notices him every time he arrives with Michael. He's always two steps behind, body hidden away behind a large coat, the fur collar curving along his jawline, green eyes lowered. He's obedient to Michael, moving in step with him, pouring Michael's wine without being asked, dancing when ordered, disappearing beneath the table as requested. If he’s not pandering to his owner, he'll sit next to Michael, back straight, shoulders squared, neck arched. He's a toy, a display, and he’s always dressed for the role. When he wiggles out of his coat, he's wearing a flapper's dress modified to fit someone with no breasts, a broad waist, thin hips. It’s always the same dress, but the color changes each time. Tonight it’s a pale green.

Castiel runs his eyes over the boy’s body hungrily, but only when Michael's looking away. He wants to fall to his knees and slide his hands up under the boy's skirt. He wants to part those thighs and work the soft bulge beneath the fabric to a straining hardness. He wants to touch him with his hands and with his mouth- and the thought of it- the thought of something so obscene sends shivers down his spine.

One of Michael's men waves for him, a blond-haired man in a white, slim-cut suit. He sits next to a woman with hair so blonde it’s almost white. She wears a true flapper dress, the beaded strings glinting in the low lantern light as she sways to the music playing from the radio. Her eyes are hard and cold when Castiel comes to stand by her. 

The man holds out a card and Castiel takes it, careful to keep his gloved fingers from touching the man's bare ones. He turns the wrong direction just so he can let his eyes linger over the boy, let them trail over his body, one more time.

 

* * *

 

In the back of the restaurant, Castiel reads the card. He calls out their dinner order to Hannah, who sighs and nods. She starts pulling ingredients while Castiel slips out the back door. He unties his apron and drapes it over the bins by the door. He pulls out the empty trash bags and kicks aside piles of garbage to unearth the wheelbarrow. He pops open the backdoor of Michael’s car and a man tumbles out the opening. Only the weight of the second man in the back seat keeps him from sliding out completely. Both are covered in blood, gunshots to the head having splattered their brains across the back window. 

Castiel makes a note to call for Samandriel and he hauls the first man out of the car and into the wheelbarrow. He drops the second man on top of him, and then wheels them down to the end of the alley. He bangs four times on the butcher's door. Zachariah opens it, his blood-covered stomach appearing first.

"What?" he growls.

"From Michael," Castiel tells him, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the bodies. 

He fishes the notice out of his apron pocket and passes it over. Zachariah flicks it open and reads it. He spits on the ground at Castiel's feet.

"Bring 'em in," he orders, stepping back out of the way. 

Castiel pushes the wheelbarrow in through the door, grunting with the effort to push it over the step. He follows Zachariah through he the freezer room, large shanks of meat- cow and pig and other hits- dangling from the ceiling. Empty hooks swing free and Castiel eyes them with distaste. 

The ice of the storage room gives way to the bitter, copper smell of blood as they head into the butchering room. Castiel helps Zachariah unload the bodies onto the table. He watches Zachariah swing a hook into them, then yank on the chains until they’re dangling a few feet away. As he slits their wrists and their ankles to free the rest of the blood, Castiel excuses himself. He drags the wheelbarrow back through the ice room and into the alley to hide it behind the garbage again. He pulls on his apron, checks that the blood that rubbed off on him is hidden, and then he smokes a cigarette. He blows smoke into the air and watches it dissipate into the night sky.

Inside, Castiel sends Samandriel out to clean the car. Hannah whistles for him and he comes over to find her putting the finishing touches on the dishes. He loads them onto a tray, takes a moment to review the order, and heads back out to the dining room. He slides everyone's plate in front of them without interrupting conversation, careful to keep his eyes down. As Castiel puts Michael's plate into place he cannot help tipping his chin down to take in the line of the boy's knees where they poke out from under his dress. He's wearing stockings, thin black things. Castiel wonders how much they cost and if he can afford a pair. He wants to run them across his skin, through his hands. Maybe he can borrow a pair from Meg.

The boy gets nothing. He hasn't changed positions once tonight.

 

* * *

 

Dinner breaks down into drunk gambling. The owner had made himself scarce while Michael conducted business, but now he brings over the best whiskey he owns and joins them. Castiel sits in the kitchen, tucked back into the pantry, a hand between his legs. He massages his cock through his pants and thinks back to the sight of the boy dancing on the table at Michael's snapped order. He'd obeyed- quietly, wordlessly- and spun and kicked, dress flapping, high-heeled feet kicking up into the air. Everyone had cheered and jeered. He'd danced through three songs before Michael let him down and chased him off. They’d kicked the women out, too. Castiel doesn't know where they disappeared to, but he knows the boy wasn't with them.

Castiel closes his eyes and rubs harder. He shouldn't do this here. He's still got to serve them, but they're drunk enough and his apron hangs low enough that a stain on the front of his pants will go unnoticed. The thought of walking by the boy, of brushing up against him and the fringe of his dress, with his come still in his underwear makes Castiel shudder. He groans and squeezes himself through his slacks, hips rolling up into it.

The door to the pantry clicks shut. Castiel's eyes shoot open and he scrambles to his feet, startled and desperate. He freezes at the sight of the boy leaning back against the door.

His green eyes trace over Castiel's body, lingering on his lap. Castiel doesn't dare glance down, can't imagine how obscene it must be to see it tented. 

"I saw you lookin'," the boy says, and his voice is rougher than Castiel expected. He must be older than he looks.

Castiel shakes his head. "You're mistaken."

The boy snorts. "I _saw_ you, _Castiel_."

"And what if you did?" Castiel challenges, anger surging from nothing. "That's your- your owner out there." He points past the boy's shoulder.

The boy only smirks. "Michael doesn't own me."

"So he's not paying you?" Castiel asks with disdainful disbelief. 

"Oh, sure he is." He gestures to his clothes. "You think I enjoy this get up?"

Castiel runs his eyes over the boy, licking his lips involuntarily. 

The boy snorts. "Man, what is it about this that gets guys so hot?" His smirk is in full play and he strides forward a few steps to cock a hip and settle his hand on it. Castiel's lips part as he watches the fringe swing around his waist, around his thighs. There's barely enough light to make it glitter, but it does.

"What's got you touchin' yourself in the dark?" the boy asks.

Castiel's eyes jerk up. "Nothing," he answers gruffly, soothing down his apron, palm sliding over his still-hard cock. He lingers too long and the boy laughs at him. Castiel looks up in time to see him bite his lip. 

"Bet it was the dancing."

He raises his arms above his head and sways his hips. Castiel groans, desperate and hungry. He pushes down on his cock as he watches those hips move for him.

"Knew it," the boy whispers. With each sway he moves closer to Castiel until he's near enough to bring his arms down and curl his palms over Castiel's shoulders. "You gonna touch me?" he asks, leaning in so that Castiel can feel the heat of his breath. 

Castiel draws in a shaky breath. He reaches up and wraps his fingers around the boy's wrist. He goes still.

"What's your name?" Castiel asks.

"Dean," the boy sighs. 

Castiel looks up to meet his eyes. Dean watches him warily, his gaze dipping every so often to where Castiel's fingers rest. Castiel tips his head in consideration. He slides his fingers up Dean's arm. Dean watches riveted. Goosebumps shiver up his arms behind Castiel’s touch. Dean swallows heavily when Castiel pauses at his elbow. He brings up his other hand and follows the same path on Dean’s other arm. Dean starts to tremble. Castiel hums softly and slides his hands up Dean's arm to his shoulders. He steps closer so that he can curve his hands around to Dean's back, pressing his palms flat against him, spreading his fingers wide to cover as much area as possible. Dean closes his eyes and tips his head back, moaning low in his throat. Castiel's breath punches out of him and he steps forward to press himself flat to Dean's body.

Dean groans as he wraps his arms around Castiel's neck and buries his face into Castiel's shoulder. Dean's body is hot against his own despite the skimpy dress. Castiel runs his hands down Dean's back to his waist and then circles them around to run his thumbs to Dean's hip bones. Dean turns his head to press his mouth to Castiel's neck.

"Please- _touch_ me."

Castiel wraps an arm around Dean's waist to hold him flush and spins them. He walks them back into the pantry until he can press Dean against the far wall. Dean whimpers, his head falling back.

"Doesn't he touch you?" Castiel asks.

Dean shakes his head. "Never. No one touches me."

"That's a shame." Castiel pushes harder with his body. Dean arches into it. Castiel kisses the column of his neck where it's exposed to him. He knows better than to leave marks that could get Dean in trouble, so he settles for kissing and licking, tasting Dean's perfume thick and chemical on his tongue. Dean tips his chin up, encouraging Castiel with a hand on the back of his head. Castiel makes his way to Dean's jaw, licks up the smooth skin there until he can slip his tongue into Dean's mouth.

Dean groans into the kiss, rocking his body against Castiel's. He's hard and it sends a shiver through Castiel to be pressed up against him, to have his cock against Dean's. Castiel settles his hands on Dean's hips again and leans back. Dean's whimper is panicked and his hands scrabble at Castiel's shoulders. Castiel shushes him.

"I just want to see," he says as he looks down between them. Dean's skirt is too delicate, too soft to hide the strain of Dean's cock. It bulges out profanely, fringing hanging from it. Castiel slips to his knees, trailing his hands down Dean's thighs. He curves his hands against the back of Dean's knees and looks up at him. Dean pants heavily, hands twisted into the fabric of Castiel's shirt. Castiel pets down his calves, feeling the catch of delicate hose against his callouses. He looks down again to watch his hands slide up the outside of Dean's legs and disappear under his skirt. The fabric rises as Castiel explores higher. He groans as his fingers find the edge of the stockings mid-thigh. He traces sightlessly up the garter to Dean's underwear. Dean's cock jumps as Castiel's fingers trace the edges of the material where it sits in the creases of his hips. He hasn't explored very far, but Castiel can already tell that Dean's been shaved clean. 

Castiel realizes he’s trembling when Dean trails his fingers up Castiel's neck and cups his cheek.

"It's okay, Cas. You can touch me."

Castiel leans forward to bury his face into the fabric of Dean's skirt, nosing into the joint of Dean's groin, his cock pressing against Castiel's cheek. Dean groans and rolls his hips against Castiel's face; Castiel loves it. He pulls back again, ignoring Dean's pout, and pushes his skirt up, watching as he reveals the garters and the smooth, pale skin of Dean's thighs.

Dean's cock catches on the fabric, pulling flush to his stomach before it falls down again. Dean's underwear only covers his balls and nothing else. Castiel struggles to breathe with the thought that Dean sat at that table all night with his cock hanging free. He danced on top of the table, knees apart, with his cock bouncing between his thighs. Castiel groans and presses his face into Dean's skin, scraping his teeth against it, catching the fabric of his panties and pulling back to let go and listen to the snap of it against Dean's skin.

Dean's cock twitches with every move Castiel makes. Precome drools from the head. He's red and swollen where he's pushed out of his foreskin and it makes Castiel whine with impatience.

"Has anyone ever sucked you, Dean?" Castiel asks.

Dean stares at him with wide eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants.

"Has anyone ever taken you into their mouth and sucked on you until you came?"

Dean groans, hips rocking forward, cock bobbing. Castiel wraps his hand around the base of Dean's cock and stares at him.

"Do you want me to?"

"Oh, yes, Cas, please."

Castiel leans forward and swirls his tongue around the head of Dean's cock. Dean moans, his head smacking back against the wall, his jerking forward. Castiel lets him, opening his mouth to let his cock push in deeper. He grips Dean's hips and pushes them flat against the wall, letting Dean's cock withdraw from his mouth. Then he follows it down again, enjoying Dean's bitten off moans and curses. His fingers twist into Castiel's hair, destroying his careful work with pomade. He can feel Dean's hips attempting to follow Castiel's mouth each time he pulls back, sucking. 

"Cas- Cas- I'm-" Dean gasps as his fingers tighten in Castiel's hair. 

Castiel bites back a triumphant smile and pulls off to suck on the head of Dean's cock, tonguing the underside and stroking the shaft with his hand. He looks up to find Dean watching him, green eyes wide open. Castiel gives one last hard suck and Dean's eyes snap shut as he comes in Castiel's mouth. Castiel lets his come sit on his tongue, stroking Dean until he whimpers and shivers, hips twitching away from Castiel instead of toward him. Castiel pulls off, letting Dean slip out from between his closed lips.

Castiel rises to his feet and cups Dean's face. He doesn't think before he presses his mouth to Dean's, thumbs against the hinge of his jaw so that Dean opens to him easily. Castiel slips his tongue into Dean's mouth, sharing his come with him. Dean's head jerks away, but Castiel holds him close until Dean melts into the kiss again, his tongue chasing Castiel's. 

Dean fumbles a hand between them while they kiss, reaching down to stroke Castiel through his pants. Castiel groans and breaks away. He rocks into the touch before he pulls Dean's hand away.

"Can you-" he starts to ask, slipping his hands around the back of Dean's thighs. At Dean's frown, he clarifies, "Up."

Dean jumps and lets Castiel pin him to the wall. He wraps his legs around Castiel's waist, his face a mixture of interest and shock. It's Castiel's turn to fumble a hand between them, where he struggles to undo his pants and pull out his cock. He shoves his apron to the side and bounces Dean up until Castiel can slot his dick under Dean’s balls. Dean tenses, fingers pressing into Castiel's shoulders.

"What are you-"

"Just like this," Castiel interrupts. He thrusts against Dean's body, enjoying the glide of his cock against Dean's panties. Dean's mouth drops open and he clutches at Castiel's shoulders, only this time it's to pull him closer.

"Oh _oh_! Again," Dean encourages with a low groan.

Castiel tucks his face into Dean's neck and thrusts with abandon, moaning into the sweaty skin there, enjoying the way Dean gasps with pleasure too. He knows he won't last long, not with Dean wrapped around him, getting as much pleasure out of this as Castiel, and he doesn't. A few dozen thrusts and Castiel's coming against Dean’s panties, against the skin behind his balls and further back. Castiel moans and shudders against Dean, his fingers digging into the skin behind Dean's knees and into his ass. Dean whines and rocks against Castiel. Castiel glances down to see that Dean's starting to get hard again. He looks up to meet Dean's gaze and Dean grins at him lazily.

"What say I-" Dean cuts himself off as his eyes dart to something behind Castiel's shoulder. His face goes pale and he digs his nails into Castiel's shoulders. Castiel twists around to find Michael standing in the doorway of the pantry, face twisted with anger. Castiel freezes as Michael's eyes bore into Castiel. Dean pushes away from Castiel, slipping down his body to stand on his feet.

"Michael, it's not-"

"If you say it's not what it looks like, I will kill you both where you stand."

Dean's mouth snaps shut and he swallows thickly.

"Turn around," Michael orders Castiel. 

Castiel tucks himself away and does up his pants, turning slowly. Michael's mouth curls into a snarl as his eyes drop down to follow the movement. He glares at Castiel before turning back to Dean. 

He snaps his fingers and growls, "Dean. Over here."

Dean hesitates but he goes, his hand trailing down Castiel's arm. Castiel steps forward to follow him, wanting to snatch Dean back. Michael doesn't take his eyes away from Dean even as he pulls out a gun and points it at Castiel's head.

"No!" Dean steps in front of the gun, hands held up.

"Dean, stop," Castiel hisses, but Dean ignores him.

"Leave him alone. He- I made him."

"You made him come on you like a whore?" Michael spits. "I hardly think so. Now get out of the way."

"No-"

“Get out of the way!” Michael cocks the gun and puts his finger on the trigger.

“Dean, move,” Castiel says lowly. 

Dean glances over his shoulder at him. He starts to shake his head, but whatever he sees in Castiel’s face has him swallowing heavily before he shifts to the side, walking over to stand by Michael.

Michael steps close enough to press the barrel of the gun into Castiel’s chest. He sneers at Castiel, his face twisted into ugliness.

“Dean is _my_ toy. What gives you the right to fuck with him?”

“Dean is a person!”

Michael rolls his eyes. “He’s bought and paid for. Pretty sure that-” 

Michael grunts as Dean slams into him, knocking him into the shelves. Vegetables and canned goods rain down on them both while the grapple for the gun. It goes off, and the bullet splinters the shelves above their heads. Castiel kicks at their hands, making both of them let go and sending the gun skittering across the floor. 

“Gun!” Dean grunts at him as he fights to keep Michael from going after it.

Michael sends Dean sprawling and lunges across the floor to grab Castiel’s ankle. He jerks Castiel’s feet out from under him, and Castiel knocks his head on a shelf as he falls. As he lies disoriented, Michael snatches up the gun and shoves it into Dean’s face, fisting his hands in the front of Dean’s dress.

“Just for that I’m going to kill you while he watches.”

Castiel closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. He hears Michael curse and forces himself to remain limp when Michael kicks him.

“Fine,” Michael snarls. “You kill him and then I’m gonna kill you after you suck me off.”

“Bastard,” Dean swears. 

Castiel flinches at the sound of Michael slapping Dean. He cracks his eyes open to see Michael spin Dean and hold him to his body with one hand. He wraps Dean’s hand around the gun and points it toward Castiel, then takes his hand away and grips Dean’s hip.

“Kill him,” he orders.

Dean hesitates, the gun trembling in his hands. Michael punches Dean in the side, catching him when he nearly crumples with the pain.

“I said to kill him.”

Castiel can see the moment Dean makes his choice. His shoulders go square and his hand stops trembling. He takes a long look at Castiel before he twists, swinging the gun around and pulling the trigger.

Michael’s head jerks back; blood and brain spray the wall behind him. Dean shudders and spins away, covering his mouth as he retches. Castiel scrambles to his feet as Michael’s body drops. He takes the gun from Dean and sets a hand on his back. 

“Castiel!”

He looks up to see Hannah and Samandriel staring in shock at Michael.

“What happened?” Hannah asks as she comes forward to kneel by Michael’s body. “What did you do?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Did they hear anything?” Castiel gestures toward the restaurant.

“They’re all passed out,” Samandriel answers. 

“Good. That’s good.”

“What are we gonna do?” Dean asks as he straightens up. He’s still pale, but he’s no longer green and he hadn’t actually thrown up. He takes the gun from Castiel and empties it of bullets, dropping it back on Michael’s body.

Castiel meets Hannah’s gaze. “We’ll get rid of him,” he answers.

“I can clean up here,” Samandriel offers.

Castiel glances at him. “I’ll grab the barrel.”

“The what?” Dean asks. He trails after Castiel as he ducks down the hallway to the back door. 

When he realizes what Castiel is doing, he starts to help, tossing trash aside. He holds the door for Castiel as he pushes the wheelbarrow into the building. He can’t get it into the pantry, but between himself, Dean, and Hannah, they manage to load Michael’s body into it.

Castiel hands the gun back to Dean. “We might need this.”

Dean nods and loads it. “Where are we going?”

Castiel focuses on wheeling Michael’s body out the backdoor before he answers. “There’s a reason Michael favored this restaurant.” He gestures with his chin at Zachariah’s establishment. “Butcher.”

“So, he’d come here and let you do his dirty work,” Dean surmises, his voice bitter.

Castiel shrugs a shoulder. He parks the wheelbarrow to the side of the door, close to the building so it will be out of sight when Zachariah answers. Dean flattens himself against the wall beside the wheelbarrow, gun held ready. Castiel has to bang on the door several times before it swings open and Zachariah leans out.

“What?”

“I have another.”

Zachariah scowls. “Fine. Give it here and I’ll get to it later.” He pushes the door open wider.

“No, it needs to be done now,” Castiel argues. “If you won’t, then let me.”

Zachariah laughs. “You think I’ll trust _you_ with these knives. Get out of here and let me do my job.”

“No-” Castiel steps forward. “It’s my-”

Zachariah shoves Castiel, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Stupid boy,” he spits, but cuts off as Dean jerks in between them, gun raised.

“You need to keep your hands to yourself,” Dean growls. “Now, you gonna let us in or what?”

Zachariah’s eyes narrow. For a moment, Castiel expects him to fight Dean, but then he raises his hands and steps back.

“Cas.” Dean follows him in, gun still trained on him.

Castiel grabs the wheelbarrow and follows after them. Dean forces Zachariah back so he can’t see Michael’s body, not until Castiel has Michael out of the wheelbarrow and on the table. When he sees Michael, Zachariah starts cussing and swings a fist at Dean’s head.

“You’re gonna pay for this,” he bellows, arms flailing as Dean dodges them. “You think you can kill the head of-”

Dean shoots him once in the chest. Zachariah stumbles backward, blood pouring down the front of his apron. He lurches toward Dean, his face twisted with anger and fury. Dean shoots him through the head and Zachariah reels sideways to collapse on the floor. Dean shudders but he doesn’t dry heave again.

Castiel steps close to him just in case, eyeing Dean. “You okay?” he asks softly.

Dean nods jerkily. “I only ever shot animals before,” he answers.

Castiel huffs a small laugh. “Still only, Dean.”

“Get outta here.” Dean grins at him and shoves at his shoulder. Castiel smiles back and Dean’s grin turns shy. He leans forward and pecks Castiel on the cheek. “Let’s get these fools cleaned up, yeah?”

Castiel nods and turns to the bodies. Zachariah’s grinder is large, a strange mechanical thing that somebody had jury rigged to a car engine. Castiel’s never seen anything like it and figures he won’t ever again. Only someone who disposes of bodies on the regular would have something like this.

Castiel had seen Zachariah do this once. He’d come with a new body just as Zachariah had pulled down a drained one and set it on his table. He’d watched as Zachariah had chopped them into pieces, severing arms with a single swing of his blade. When he’d tossed the pieces into the grinder, hunks of flesh and bone had sprayed back out. With Michael and Zachariah being undrained, Castiel knows this will be messy, but he has no choice; he can’t wait even if he knew how long it would take to drain their bodies.

Castiel finds the large blade that Zachariah used and positions Michael on the slab, arms spread from his body. He rolls his shoulders and his neck to loosen up, then swings the machete at Michael’s shoulder. It hits and sinks in a few inches but grinds to a stop on the bone. Castiel grimaces and yanks the blade out of Michael’s shoulder. He tries again, but it still sticks.

Castiel frees the blade. He drops it on the slab by Michael and grabs his arm, rotating it until he hears the joint pop. Across the room Dean flinches. Castiel ignores him and hacks at the remaining muscle.

Zachariah had been able to sever the limbs with a single swing, and it’s only now that Castiel realizes they’d gotten lucky, killing him before he could get to a knife. They’d have had no chance against him.

Castiel rolls his shoulders again and rotates Michael’s other arm until it slips free of its joint as well. Then he severs it with just a few swings. The legs are much harder. Blood slickens the table and Castiel’s hands. He stops to wipe them off on his apron, but even that grows heavy with the amount of blood pouring from Michael’s body. He understands now just how important the bleeding process is.

Castiel pauses after he’s severed Michael’s legs and leans up against the table. He rubs a hand across his forehead, intending to clear the sweat gathered there, but he only smears blood across his face.

“That should not be so attractive,” Dean says from where he’s standing on watch.

Castiel looks up at him to find Dean staring, eyes dark. He licks his lips, and Castiel’s eyes drop to watch, then drop further down to where he can see the front of Dean’s dress bulging. Castiel looks up again; Dean’s face is bright red, but he only offers a shrug and a wink at Castiel.

With a shake of his head, Castiel turns away to hide his pleased smile and focus on the grinder. After a few false starts, he gets it running, the engine chugging loudly and obnoxiously. Castiel grimaces but tosses in the first limb.

Blood and bone spray back, sending Dean into fits of laughter when Castiel startles and lunges out of the way. Castiel glares and tosses in the rest of the limbs. The grinder eats them with no issues. A fine red mist clouds the air. Castiel hesitates before he throws Michael's torso into the grinder, but the opening's wide enough and Castiel has brought larger men than him to Zachariah in the past. He tosses the torso in. It bounces around the opening before the clothes catch in the teeth and drag it into its bite. The machine whines as it starts on flesh, but soon it's grinding away at Michael's ribs and then his pelvis and then nothing at all.

Castiel goes to wipe his face on his sleeve, but his shirt is heavy with blood. Dean comes over and flicks the machine off.

"What now?"

"Zachariah."

Dean looks down at the man on the floor. "He's kinda big."

Castiel hefts the machete in his hand and considers. "Well, I should at least get rid of his arms and legs."

"His head too," Dean agrees.

"Can you help me?" Castiel asks, concerned. Dean's no longer pale, and beneath the red wash of blood on his skin, he has good color, but Castiel can see the way he's trembling. Can see the nervous twitch in his arm and how he keeps glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Dean says and it sounds sincere. He tosses the gun on the slab and follows Castiel's directions. 

They have a harder time dislocating Zachariah's limbs; they're thicker and heavier than Michael's. By the time they've worked off both of his arms, Dean and Castiel are panting, sweat staining the underarms of Castiel's shirt and sticking the back of Dean's dress to his body.

"Fuck. Maybe just the head," Dean groans. 

Castiel nods agreement and runs a hand through his hair. Dean holds Zachariah's head in place while Castiel hacks at his neck. Dean picks it up and makes a face at it, but he tosses it into the grinder when Castiel flicks it on. Zachariah's arms are easily eaten. Castiel flicks off the grinder and tosses the machete onto the slap next to the gun.

"Here," he says. He leads Dean into a room off to the side. There's a sink there, and they take turns washing as much gore off their skin as possible. Castiel watches, fascinated at the slow reveal of Dean's freckles.

Dean catches him and winks, making Castiel's face heat with embarrassment. When he turns away, Dean catches his arm and pulls him closer.

"Man, come on. I've still got your spunk on my ass."

Heat lurches through Castiel's gut and before he can think about it, he's slipping his hand under Dean's skirt and between his legs. Dean groans and parts his knees so that Castiel can curve curious fingers around his balls and further back, tracing over the tacky material that covers Dean beneath his dress.

Castiel explores by touch, watching Dean's face. His eyes flutter shut, and his mouth falls open. Castiel is fascinated by the red that spreads across Dean's face. It darkens his cheeks in blotches, then crawls down his neck and across his collar bones. Castiel hooks a finger in the neck of his dress and pulls it away from Dean's body to peer down it. The red continues over his chest. His nipples are hard and Castiel wants to put his mouth on them.

"Castiel? Dean?"

Dean curses under his breath. Castiel withdraws his hand, but not without taking a moment to slide his fingers over Dean's partial erection. Dean’s hips jump satisfyingly at the touch.

"We're in here, Hannah," Castiel calls as he turns away from Dean.

Hannah appears in the doorway a moment later. "You need to go," she says. She holds out her hand and Castiel reaches out. She drops a key into his palm, one he does not recognize.

"It's for his car," she said. "I took it from that man who drives him around."

"Hannah. Thank you."

"Just go."

Dean wraps his hand around Castiel's wrist when he hesitates. "We gotta," Dean says softly.

"But you and Samandriel..."

Hannah bites her lip. "We'll be fine."

Dean glances at Castiel, then offers, "You could come with us.”

Hannah's eyebrows rise and she sends a curious look at Castiel. He nods in agreement. She looks back at Dean and then nods. "Fine, but-"

"Yeah, coming!" Dean pushes at his shoulder. Castiel stumbles but catches himself. He follows Hannah through the cold room, Dean's hand in his. 

"I'll get Samandriel," Hannah says. "There are clothes in the car."

Castiel opens the back door to find two jackets and a pile of folded clothes. He pulls them out and hands a shirt and a pair of pants to Dean.

"Oh, thank goodness," Dean breathes, taking them and shaking them out. He pulls his dress over his head. Castiel watches shamelessly, tracking the flex of Dean’s muscles beneath his skin. His eyes slip down Dean's chest to his stomach and then lower to his crotch. He's tucked his cock away, pulling the tiny fabric of the panties over it, pinning it toward his hip. Dean leaves the hose and garters on as he steps into his pants and buttons them closed.

Castiel licks his lips. Knowing what Dean's wearing under his clothes sends heat through his veins. Castiel's eyes shoot up when Dean chuckles.

"Guess I know what I'm keeping." He leers at Castiel and Castiel cannot help himself. He strides over to Dean only to be stopped by a hand on his chest.

"Hell no, Cas. You need to change first."

Castiel looks down at himself- he's still wearing his bloody apron and his clothes have gone stiff with blood and viscera.

"Ah. Yes." Castiel unties his apron and then unbuttons his shirt enough to pull it over his head. His undershirt is also tacky with blood, so he pulls it off too.

"Damn," Dean sighs, reaching out to press his palm flat to Castiel's chest again, now skin to skin. "I figured you'd have some muscle on you considering the way you picked me up earlier, but..." Dean exhales noisily and shakes his head.

Castiel catches his hand and presses a kiss to the palm before pushing it away. Dean grumbles and settles for watching him take off his pants.

Castiel's tucking in his shirt when Hannah reappears with Samandriel. He looks at Castiel with wide eyes.

"We can really go with you?" he asks.

"Course, kid," Dean says, slinging an arm over his shoulders. "Those fuckers'd kill ya if we left you two behind."

The rest of the restaurant staff had already gone home before Michael's party. Castiel, Hannah, and Samandriel were the only ones Michael hired to service his parties. It'll be easy enough to disappear with everyone passed out and none of them with any family.

Curious, Castiel glances over at Dean. "Do you have anyone else?" Castiel asks, but Dean shakes his head.

"I got a kid brother in California. Was gonna suggest we head that way."

"That's fine with me."

"I've got family in Washington, if you guys could get me close, I could probably make my way," Samandriel offers shyly.

"Nah," Dean says with a shake of his head. "We'll take you there. Hannah?"

She tucks her hands into the pockets of her skirt. "I have no family and nowhere else to be. I think I would just like to see what's out there and maybe stop if I find a place that suits."

Dean grins at her and then at Castiel. "We can do that. Come on. Road trip!" Dean says like he's still not splattered with blood or that the men inside the restaurant won't follow them. 

Castiel grins back, because he knows it won't matter. They'll outrun them or die trying.


End file.
